Dispatches

night

My pen and notebook, while composing the first draft of this post

Dispatch № 49: Hushed

In relative terms, it’s a cacophony, and it seems so because it has otherwise been so tremendously quiet that minute sounds are magnified.

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Early plum blossoms at Chomeji Temple, Nerima Ward, Tokyo

Dispatch № 20: Ghosts and Moonlight

If ghosts exist, I am likely in their midst, sitting as I am between the main hall of a seventeenth-century Buddhist temple and the large cemetery just next to it. If they’re here, though, they’re not letting on.

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Dispatch № 18: On Two Wheels

The last Saturday of May 2016. It is after midnight, and the two sounds most prominent to me in this moment are the hum of narrow, high-pressure tires on smooth asphalt and the soughing of the balmy, late-spring air flowing gently past my ears. I am keenly aware of the hush of my surroundings as I roll slowly, meanderingly through my neighborhood in the dead of the night.

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